I've Got You Under My Skin (in progress)
by Jana Kay
Summary: Part 3 now up. An Angel/Roswell crossover, where Agent Topolsky's character on Roswell becomes a vessel for Darla's demon, brought back from Hell in the Angel season finale.
1. Prologue

TITLE: I've Got You Under My Skin   
AUTHOR: Jana Kay  
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au   
DISCLAIMER: All Angel and BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon and fellow associates, and Roswell characters belong to others. I don't know who.   
RATING: R   
CLASSIFICATION: Angel/Cordelia  
SPOILERS: Up through to the end of S1 for A:tS, and the end of S4 for BtVS as well. Spoilers up through to 'Crazy' for S1 of Roswell also.  
SUMMARY: An Angel/Roswell crossover, where Agent Topolsky's character on Roswell becomes a vessel for Darla's demon, brought back from Hell in the Angel season finale.   
NOTES: The prologue takes place just *before* 'To Shanshu in LA' for _Angel_, and just *after* 'Crazy' for _Roswell_ .  
  
*****  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
  
Kathleen Topolsky kicked and punched wildly at her assailants as she was bodily dragged out of the government car she'd been shoved into. She gave up after a heavy punch landed in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She groaned in pain as she was sandwiched between two burly guards, and marched into the dark underground facility used by the government and FBI, situated just outside Roswell, New Mexico. The infamous Area 51.   
  
She was lifted off her feet as they continued walking, swaying almost comically between the two guards as their heavy footsteps resonated on the hard concrete floor. It was as though she weighed nothing. She wasn't hampering their movements in the slightest.   
  
She started struggling again, only to be promptly shaken so severely, her teeth were chattering by the end of it and her head was spinning wildly. She looked around her in a daze, knowing that above all else, she had to keep her head. She had to memorise the details and somehow get word to the others. She wasn't the first. And she wouldn't be the last. She had to get away somehow and warn the kids.   
  
And if she didn't get away...  
  
She didn't linger too much on that thought, but she knew that if she didn't get away, she had to hope that they trusted her enough to take her advice.  
  
What they were going to do to her was nothing compared to what they'd do to Max, Michael and Isabel. Not to mention their friends and the sheriff.   
  
They'd stop at nothing.   
  
She was carried past white washed walls lined with computer banks, printers and all other items of technology they could possibly need. A large screen covered one wall, and chairs littered the area around them. Obviously, this was the main communications room. She smiled grimly. The place was empty now, probably because they didn't want her to see any of their faces, but she'd bet her life that they'd been holding a meeting in here just recently. More than likely about her too. She wondered what they'd done with the orb she'd been holding when they caught her.  
  
They'd probably ensconced it safely back in the vaults.   
  
Or were currently using it to trap the kids...  
  
This time when she started struggling, she managed to get in a good kick to the shins on either side before she was thrown down on the ground and kicked viciously in the stomach and ribs.   
  
Her cry of pain was shrill and aching. She struggled to wrap her arms around her middle to try and make the sharp pain go away, but she was swiftly grabbed by her hair as one of the guards sneered then began dragging her forward again. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from forming, and she was sobbing by the time they finally let go of her.   
  
She fell backwards with another cry of pain, her tears streaking her cheeks, washing away the mascara she'd been wearing in rivulets of black on otherwise pale skin. Her hair was in disarray.   
  
When she finally managed to get some semblance of control, she realised she was in a small, dark room that she'd never seen before. She was lying in the centre of the room, but around her she could make out several shadows. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying again.   
  
The finality of the situation she was in came crashing down around her ears. She'd been deluding herself all along. There would be no escape. There was never going to be an escape. Her wild thoughts of having Max, Isabel and Michael take her with them were ludicrous.   
  
No one was going to save her.   
  
And they'd never been going to.  
  
It was then that one of the shadows stepped forward.  
  
Pierce.  
  
She felt the bile rise in her throat at the smile he held on his face.   
  
He would enjoy this.   
  
And she could do nothing to stop it.  
  
But she could maintain her dignity.   
  
She watched him with wide eyes, struggling to maintain her outward composure. Slowly, she picked herself up off the ground, wincing as pain from her ribs shot through her. The guards had broken something.  
  
Once she was steady on her feet, she raised her hands carefully and wiped at the drying tears on her cheeks and chin. She knew she'd probably smudged the mascara even more, but that was unimportant. She didn't care about her appearance anymore. Now she just cared about her life.   
  
Pierce's grin grew wider at her display and he took a step forward.   
  
At that, Kathleen had to fight to stop herself from taking a step back.  
  
He stared at her a little longer until her skin was starting to itch, and as it did, he shook his head slowly from side to side. "Tsk, tsk. You've been going against us Agent Topolsky. A traitor."  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he raised his hand and silenced her.   
  
"I don't want to here it Topolsky. I've killed men for less." He paused then and smirked. "But you already know that, don't you?"  
  
Her mind replayed images of Agent Stevens, and she finally nodded her head slowly. "Yes sir."  
  
He smiled widely. "Good."  
  
He paused again and studied her critically. "Do you think I'm going to kill you Kathleen?"  
  
She straightened her spine a little and raised her head, locking gazes with him. "Well you're a murderer, so yes, I do think you're going to kill me."  
  
Pierce's face darkened slightly. "You know Kathleen, I had planned on killing you when you first got away, I won't lie. But a lot can happen in three days."  
  
He smirked at her as he tilted his head.  
  
"Actually, after careful discussion, I think this will be a much better punishment for your transgressions anyway. In addition, our little branch is going to be making a lot of money out of this. And in these revealing times, we can use all the money for surveillance that we can get."  
  
Kathleen stared at him in hatred, his meaning not lost on her. She'd inadvertently led him to the kids, and now they were going to use the money from whatever they did to her to spy on them. Then once they had the proof they needed, which they'd undoubtedly get, they'd swoop in for the kill. Literally.  
  
"So. If you're not going to kill me, what are you going to do?" Her eyes glittered angrily.  
  
Pierce laughed out loud. "We're going to sell you."  
  
Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Sell her? To who? How? They couldn't possibly get away with that, especially if she was still alive... unless they were going to cut her up into pieces and sell her body parts on the black market.  
  
Pierce watched her jovially.   
  
"That's right Kathleen. In two days time, you'll be working exclusively for Wolfram & Hart. Of course, you won't quite be yourself, but hey. That's not our concern."  
  
She looked at him as though he'd gone crazy, which he probably had. At the same time, she fought to stop the tide of panic from overwhelming her. Death would have been easy. Simple and final. But being sold? What was she being sold for? And who were Wolfram & Hart? And how were they going to get her to keep quiet? Surely they must know that she'd never let herself go quietly.  
  
At that moment, two other men stepped out of the shadows on either side of Pierce.   
  
She watched them carefully. These must be the people she was being sold to.   
One man was middle aged, dressed in an expensive grey suit and classy tie. His white shirt looked crisp and clean, and his receding hairline was brushed back neatly. He stood with his hands gently clasped in front of him, and though he looked harmless, he had an air of power and confidence about him, making her see straight away that he wasn't all he appeared to be. She glanced into his eyes for a moment, and the iron grey that she saw there made her quickly look away.   
  
The other man was similarly dressed, only in a navy suit, and he was young. Brown hair flopped slightly over his forehead, and she could see the blue in his eyes even from here. He was holding a briefcase in front of him with both hands, and she could sense the same air of power and confidence around him as on the other man. However, this man also seemed to exude an air of arrogance and cockiness. Tell tale signs of his youth.  
  
As she suspected, it was the younger man who started to talk.   
  
"Miss Topolsky, I'm Lindsey MacDonald. I'm a junior partner with the law firm Wolfram & Hart, situated in LA. We're glad to have you on board."  
  
He smiled at her as he ran his eyes over her body, as if assessing her for some unknown reason. Goosebumps broke out over her flesh as she tried to restrain her growing panic.  
  
"A law firm? What would I do at a law firm."  
  
Lindsay smiled smugly. "You'll become one of our clients."  
  
"And what make's you think I'll go along with being your client?"  
  
The older man spoke up this time. He smiled indulgently at her, like a father would to an unruly child. "Oh I expect you won't Miss Topolsky. At least, not at first. But in two days time, I think you'll be quite willing. Quite."  
  
She felt a shiver race up and down her spine at their words. "What's happening in two days time that'll change my mind?"  
  
The older man smiled even more indulgently now. "It'll just upset you if you know dear. It's better if you don't. But you will live, so there's no need to worry about us killing you. We need you alive, not dead. And soon, I think you'll find yourself to be quite happy."  
  
She glared at him furiously. Her freedom was being taken away from her, she'd lost her job, and now she was being sent into a new life she had no inkling of, and this man was worrying about upsetting her?  
  
"I won't break. Tell me what you want with me, and why I'm going to change my mind," she snapped.   
  
Pierce spoke up again. "Agent Topolsky, I'd be wary if I were you. These people won't tolerate the type of behaviour you just exhibited. They may find yet that you are of no use to them, as you have proven to be here."  
  
By this time, Kathleen was quivering in anger and fear. But the spasming of her muscles was sending shooting pain through her ribs, and she gave a gasp of pain as she brought one hand up over them.  
  
At her exclamation of pain, the older man moved swiftly forward. He rested a hand on her back as he leant over her bending form. "Are you okay, dear?"  
  
Her rib bones rubbed together underneath their veil of skin, and she let out another groan of pain. She couldn't seem to make herself stop shaking so the pain would recede.  
  
"Are you hurt?"  
  
She nodded her head slightly as she bit her lip. She was not going to cry. Not again.   
  
The older man straightened and glared at Pierce. "I thought I told you not to hurt her. She's too important."  
  
Pierce gaped at the man. "I-I told the guards not to hurt her. It's not my fault if they did. I gave them explicit instructions. From the car to this room, and no damaging her."  
  
The man's voice was cold. "Bring them in here."  
  
Kathleen straightened herself again, finally managing to bring her quaking body under control as Pierce went outside. Turning her head, she saw the two guards come in and position themselves on either side of the door, as Pierce continued back to his spot next to Lindsey.   
  
Turning again, Pierce glared sternly at the two guards. "Did you hurt Agent Topolsky, men?"  
  
Their faces paled slightly as they realised their transgression had been discovered.  
  
"Well did you?"  
  
One of the men finally spoke up, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "We only hit her when she kicked us, sir."  
  
"I thought I gave you explicit instructions, men. Explicit."  
  
"Y-You did, sir."  
  
"Then why did you hit her?"  
  
There was another pause.  
  
"W-We're sorry, sir. It won't happen again."  
  
The older man spoke up from next to her. His voice was icy cold. "No it won't gentleman. It won't ever happen again."  
  
He waved his arm, and suddenly a creature flew from out of the shadows at the two guards. Before they had time to react, it had ripped the head off of one, and had then slammed its hand through the other's chest and ripped out his heart.  
  
Kathleen froze in terror as she watched the sudden display of death. Blood had spattered over parts of the walls and carpet, and was pooling heavily underneath the two collapsed bodies. The severed head lay nearby on the floor, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. The creature breathed harshly, then slunk back into the shadows again, slowly slurping at the human heart it was holding as it went.  
  
She turned around again, and just had time to see the fright on Pierce's face before she fainted.  
  
  
End prologue.  



	2. Part 1

TITLE: I've Got You Under My Skin  
AUTHOR: Jana Kay  
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au  
DISCLAIMER: All Angel and BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and 20th Century Fox, and Roswell characters also belong to others. I don't know who.   
RATING: R   
PAIRING: Angel/Cordelia  
SPOILERS: Up through to the end of S1 for A:tS, and the end of S4 for BtVS as well. Spoilers up through to 'Crazy' for S1 of Roswell also.  
SUMMARY: An Angel/Roswell crossover, where Agent Topolsky's character on Roswell becomes a vessel for Darla's demon, brought back from Hell in the Angel season finale.   
NOTES: These: //.....// indicate thoughts.  
  
*****  
  
PART I  
  
  
Cordelia paced nervously around the area in front of her front door. It had been a week since Wolfram & Hart had raised their demon in a box, and she was slowly but surely going out of her mind with worry about what was in it. And not only what was in it, but how it would hurt her family, because she knew it would.   
  
Wesley and Angel were all she had. Whether they were being her friends, coworkers, confidantes or family, she cared for them fiercely. And she'd be damned if she let some boxed demon hurt them, or take them away from her.  
  
Ever since she woke up in the hospital, she found herself being able to better feel the pain and suffering of those around her. Like her senses were attuned to it to a much higher degree. In short, she'd become partially empathic. If the emotions of those around her were strong enough, she could sense them, but in truth, the emotions that showed themselves the strongest were grief and pain.  
  
It gave her a chance to help those around her if she had the chance to meet them. A chance to give them a little shiny spot amongst the dreary backdrop of their lives. But she'd also become careful with the use. Probing into another person's emotions and thoughts, no matter how slight, was a violation of privacy. That was one thing she'd learned from that double-crossing demon, Barney.   
  
Since Angel's apartment and office exploded, Angel Investigations had moved to Cordelia's apartment. Currently, the dining room table was covered in pile upon pile of dusty tomes, lovingly cared for and studied by Wesley. Not to mention a few of Angel's which had miraculously managed to survive unscathed. Or at least, relatively.  
  
Newspapers were stacked neatly in a corner, having been combed thoroughly by Angel so as not to miss a possible case opportunity while her visions were on hiatus. The couch that folded out to make a bed was currently folded out, and a few items were thrown on it in disarray. Mainly Angel's clothes, which he'd hurriedly changed out of just before he ran out her door a little over two hours ago with Wesley. Lack of an apartment had caused him to move in with Cordelia for the moment, and she didn't mind sharing the space. It was nice to have someone around who could actually talk back. She got so lonely sometimes....  
  
He told her they'd be back in an hour. An hour and a half at most. Never did two hours come up. And she'd tried his cell phone and he hadn't been answering. She was going to wear a hole through the carpet the way she was going, but she couldn't help it. She was scared out of her mind.   
  
'What ifs' were racing through her mind by the bucketful.   
  
'What if they ran into a trap?'  
  
'What if they were in a car accident?'  
  
'What if Angel lost his phone?'  
  
'What if they're hurt somewhere?'  
  
'What if the demon in the box attacked them?'  
  
Damn! It all came back to the box.  
  
Looking back over at the dining table, her eyes fell on the open books chock full of information that was doing them absolutely no good. Next to them lay the Scroll of Aberjian, which was also doing them no good. Well, except for telling them Angel would become human, which was a good thing - no a *great* thing - and saving her life, but apart from that, nada on what hell fiend had been raised, and oh even better, nada on how to get rid of the damn thing, save Cordelia herself going and wringing its demony neck.   
  
She cursed fluently under her breath as she sped up her pacing and locked her hands together behind her back. She dimly registered that a small part of her brain could actually almost start to see the tracks she was making on the carpet. Well that was just perfect wasn't it?   
  
Now she'd need to get new carpet too.  
  
It was in that one single moment that she'd been distracted that the door decided to fly open.   
  
Whirling to face the door, she froze momentarily at the sight of Angel carefully carrying Wesley in, one of the former Watcher's arms draped over Angel's broad shoulders as the cool figure supported his weight. Then the moment passed and she was moving again. And Wesley was hurt. Dammit! It was starting already.   
  
Too soon. Too fucking soon.   
  
She was going to lose them.   
  
//Over my dead body!//  
  
She quickly closed the door behind the two as Angel carried Wesley further into the apartment, then she ran over to help the dark-haired vampire lower Wesley onto the couch bed. "What happened?"   
  
They finished getting Wesley comfortable, then Angel turned to Cordelia with sad eyes, his mouth twisted into a tired grimace. "Vampires. A nest."  
  
She nodded in painful understanding, but before she could run and get the first-aid kit from the kitchen cabinet, a quiet groan sounded from Wesley and his eyelids fluttered slowly open.   
  
He blinked groggily, and looked up into the two unlikely faces that had become his family over the last half a year. "Did we get them?"  
  
It came out as a mumble, followed by a groan as he attempted to sit up on the make-shift bed.  
  
Before he could move again though, Cordelia had her hands on his shoulders, stilling any more possible movements he might want to make for the time being.  
  
"Hey! In case you've forgotten buddy, you're still hurt. From the explosion as well as what happened out there just before. Rest now okay? You're safe here. You don't have to move."  
  
Her expression was soft as she looked down at Wesley, her dark hair framing her face, and in turn, he couldn't help smiling slightly at her concern. It felt good to know people cared. To know you were needed, wanted, not just a worthless good for nothing piece of rubbish that nobody had even wanted around in the first place....  
  
He nodded his head absently, the small smile still playing lightly over his lips. "Yes mother."  
  
She ignored that.  
  
Straightening up, she moved quickly to the kitchen, not surprised in the slightest to see the cabinet door containing the first-aid kit float open on its own, and the kit come out to rest in her hands.  
  
She looked up at the ceiling.   
  
"Thanks Dennis."  
  
Then she was heading back in the direction she came from.   
  
In the short time she'd been out of the room, Angel had removed Wesley's shoes and set them up neatly next to the wall, then had sat down gingerly next to the Watcher's legs. He turned his head as Cordelia came back inside, already holding the kit open and pulling out the things she thought they'd need. She looked up as she drew closer, and caught his eye.  
  
Angel smiled gently at her despite the situation. It still amazed him no end how the Queen of the Cordettes had become his best friend. She'd changed so much. But in good ways. And the changes had helped her mature too. Gone was the teenage Sunnydale cheerleader, replaced by a mature woman and seer, who at times, seemed wise beyond her years.   
  
It hurt his dead heart to know that part of that painful wisdom she had, was due to the evil she had to face every day while working with him, for him, by his side.  
  
As his best friend.  
  
He never thought he'd have someone there like that. Someone to fight beside him regardless of the relationship they had. Buffy had Willow and Xander. The only Slayer who came complete with friends. They stuck by her through thick and thin. No matter how their lives changed, their friendship was the one thing that remained. They fought the good fight.   
  
And Angel had helped Buffy too. He'd also loved her. He'd worshipped her as best he could for as long as he could, and he held her whenever she needed him and was hurt and crying, and even when she didn't. But that wasn't enough. It had never been enough. She had just been too blind with love to notice, and that made a part of him fiercely pleased. She loved him so much she didn't care for consequences. She didn't want to let him go.   
  
But he couldn't live in a dream forever. The appearance of Angelus and then his bout in and return from Hell forced him to stop and take the blinders off, and though he still loved her, he left her. Because even though their love would be eternal, their lives weren't destined to run down the same path. They would fight on the same side, but they weren't meant to fight at the other's side.   
  
At the beginning, it hurt fiercely knowing she was only a few hours away. Knowing that all he had to do was take a drive and then bam! There she'd be. Moonlight encasing her hair, making her look like a fierce angel come down from heaven. But before the dreams went too far and he got carried away, he always remembered that he didn't deserve anything from heaven. He didn't deserve a piece of sunlight, or a piece of happiness wrapped up in a package of Buffy.   
  
And so he didn't go.   
  
He remained in LA, and suddenly, there was Doyle. And after that, Cordelia. And somehow in some strange twist of fate, they managed to chip away some of his icy armor and began calling him friend.   
  
Then Doyle had died, but he still had Cordelia. And the two had drawn closer in their loss, reaffirming friendship in the face of heartfelt grief. But in such a short amount of time he nearly lost her too. Twice. First for her new powers as a seer, and second by a demon hell bent on procreating.   
  
And he swore to himself he'd never let it happen again.   
  
He cared for Wesley, and he'd cared for Doyle, but it was Cordelia he'd somehow managed to form an attachment to. Cordelia he knew he'd somehow die without if he had lost her in that hospital.   
  
Why?  
  
Because.   
  
She was his best friend.  
  
And she fought beside him through thick and thin, just like Xander and Willow did for Buffy. She was someone he never thought he'd have. And she wasn't scared by the fact that he was a vampire. She wasn't disgusted when he fed in front of her, something he'd always been scared to do in front of Buffy, afraid she wouldn't accept him. The demon was as much a part of him as his soul and Cordelia knew that. She accepted that. And she loved him for that.   
  
She was his link to the Powers. She was his seer, and he was her boss.   
  
She was his best friend, and he was hers.   
  
Despite the fact that she lost a little more of her innocence every day with him, Cordelia always stuck around. And now she was even more determined to than ever.   
  
And though part of Angel felt guilty about her loss, a small greedy part of him was fiercely happy, because that meant she'd stay by his side just that little bit longer.   
  
He was snapped out of his reverie by Cordelia's voice.  
  
"Wesley, where are you hurt?"  
  
Angel quickly scooted down the bed to make room for Cordelia, as she set the kit on the coffee table and sat on a corner of the fold out bed.  
  
"Would you like me to make a list?"  
  
Cordelia winced. "You're hurt that much?"  
  
Wesley smiled a little. "No. But my ego needed a little more sympathy."  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she reached over and grabbed the antiseptic, twisting the cap off. "We'll have a group hug later, but for now, let me fix you up."  
  
As Cordelia busied herself with patching up Wesley's injuries, Angel stood and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge to see if there were any blood bags left. Finding two more hanging at the back, he took one out and closed the door.   
  
His face flickered for a moment as he sank his fangs into the bag and ripped it open, then returned to normal when he was done. At that moment, a mug floated over to him from the clean side of the sink.   
  
He acknowledged the general area around the floating mug with a, "Thanks Dennis," then plucked it out of the air and set it down on the counter, emptying the contents of the bag into it then throwing the bag in the garbage.   
  
Picking up the mug again, he put it in the microwave and set it for 50 seconds. When the microwave dinged to signal that it was done, he pulled the mug out and leaned back against the counter, sighing as he took a sip of the warm red liquid.  
  
He stayed in that position until he was done, all the time the sounds of Wesley and Cordelia's voices drifting back to him through the arch. When he had drank the last of the blood in the mug, he turned to the sink and rinsed it out, not wanting to have Cordelia come along later and have to wipe crusty blood flakes out of her mug herself. And since he was living with her for the moment, he felt the need to pull his weight around the place, not leaving his friend to clean up after him whenever he had the urge to dirty something.   
  
As he was finishing off the mug, he sensed Cordelia coming into the room behind him, and he propped the mug up on the drying rack then wiped his hands on a dish towel as he turned around to face her, leaning back against the sink.  
  
Cordelia smiled wanly as she ran a hand through her hair, then opened the fridge, not getting anything out, but just looking. With a sigh, she closed the door then turned to face him, leaning against the counter opposite him as she crossed her arms. "He's asleep."  
  
Angel nodded his head. "I know."  
  
She looked at him curiously as she said, "How did you know?"  
  
He tilted his head slightly and nodded towards the arch where Cordelia had come in from. "I could hear his heartbeat slow down. They always do that when people go to sleep."  
  
She let out a breath as she stared at the fridge. "Of course."  
  
They were both quiet for a few minutes, comfortable with the silence after the anxious activity, then Cordelia broke it. "Why were you guys so late? Was it because of the Fang Brigade?"  
  
Angel took an unneeded breath as he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Not exactly."  
  
"Then how exactly?"  
  
"We dealt with the slime demon, then Wesley thought we should drop by the library for a few more books." Angel glanced toward the arch again. "He thought that a certain translation book would help him--"  
  
"Work out what they raised," Cordelia murmured.  
  
Angel nodded his head as he turned his gaze back towards her. "Right. Only, on the way to the library, we ran into Gunn. We stopped to chat for a few minutes; we thought maybe he'd have some information we'd be able to use for something, but then we were attacked."  
  
Cordelia groaned. "And how did Wesley get hurt so badly?"  
  
"He was still hurt from the explosion. When two of them got him on either side, it was all he could do to keep them away from his neck, without actually managing to get them off of him." Angel ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then crossed his arms over his chest. "I had three on me at the time, and I couldn't get to him before...."  
  
Cordelia watched him closely. "Before what, Angel?"  
  
He shook his head grimly, then looked at her again. "Before they threw him down a flight of stairs."  
  
Cordelia winced. "Poor Wesley."  
  
"Yeah. Gunn got hurt too, but before he did, we managed to take out the rest of them. After it was over I ran and got Wesley, then drove Gunn back to his place. His friends took care of him after that. Then I brought Wesley here."  
  
He shook his head as he looked down at the tiles on the floor. "I shouldn't have taken him with me. I knew he was still hurt, but I took him with me anyway."  
  
Cordelia sighed as she pushed herself away from the counter. "Come on, Angel. Wesley's stubborn; it's one of the things we love about him. He probably would have followed after you anyway if you'd left him behind. It's the kind of person he is. It's not your fault he got hurt." She moved closer to him, then lay a hand on his arm.   
  
"It's not your fault Angel. You didn't know you'd be attacked. You can't blame yourself for unforeseen circumstances. And he's going to get better. In a day or two, he'll be back on his feet again. In fact, I bet tomorrow, he'll be up trying to research again."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No buts, Angel. No matter how much you try to convince me, some things just aren't your fault."  
  
He looked like he was going to say something again, but instead smiled wanly as he loosened his arms across his chest and let them fall to his sides.   
  
"I still think it's my fault, but thanks for trying to make me feel better Cordelia."  
  
"What are friends for?" She smiled at him as she gave him a mock punch on his arm.  
  
She pulled back quickly when he winced in pain.   
  
There was a long pause as Angel looked anywhere but at her.  
  
"You're hurt, aren't you?" Her tone was full of accusation.  
  
Angel tried to deny it. "It's just a scratch Cordelia; it'll heal fast."  
  
She crossed her arms aggressively as she stood in front of him. "You weren't going to tell me, were you?" Her outrage increased and her tone grew mocking. "Oh look, I'm Angel. I'm strong and tough and don't need anyone to look after me when I get hurt. Why? Because I don't deserve it." She tossed her long hair over her shoulder as she fixed him with an angry glare. "Am I right, or am I right?"  
  
She waited in front of him for a reply.  
  
She was finally acknowledged with a sheepish look.   
  
"Sorry."  
  
She nodded her head firmly. "You should be. Wesley isn't the only one I worry about you know."  
  
She uncrossed her arms as she took a step back. "So. Are you going to let me fix you up? Or are we just going to keep standing here."  
  
He finally moved away from the sink, stripping his grey sweater off as he moved past her. He had his back to her by then, but she still felt the sharp stab of pain he was in, even though he was managing to hide it.   
  
She opened her mouth and gasped silently at the sudden burning sensation, glad he couldn't see her. Because if he had, she would have to explain, and she still wasn't quite sure how to break the news that she'd just become even more fragile than usual.   
  
May the PTB spare her, because she could hear the lectures now.   
  
He'd have a point though and she already knew it. After all, it wasn't the best thing to be in the middle of a life-and-death situation, and being constantly assaulted by the fear and pain of those around you....  
  
If it ever happened, and she prayed silently that it didn't, she had a feeling she'd be skyrocketing with all the emotions; partial empathic be damned.   
  
She pushed aside her thoughts as she left Angel sitting in a chair, and went looking for the first-aid kit again. Picking it up off the floor beside Wesley, she watched his face for a moment. Sleep had made the Watcher's face lose at least ten years, which she had the feeling were brought on by worry and worry alone. The little crow's feet around his eyes which were usually always making their presence known, had all but disappeared. The lines of his face were smooth and relaxed. He looked peaceful in his sleep. And he was safe now. There would be no vampires or demons bursting in here.  
  
He could finally rest and catch up on all the sleep he'd been lacking in the last two weeks.   
  
She placed the kit on the coffee table, then pulled the covers up around him a bit more, tucking them in slightly to create a cocoon of warmth for when he woke up. When she was satisfied that he was as comfortable as he was going to get, she leant down and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. Wesley may sometimes act like a stuffy British geek, but he was *their* geek, and he was *their* family. No one was allowed to hurt him. Not without hurting her and Angel first.  
  
She watched his face again carefully as she pulled back. He did look truly peaceful. But after everything he'd been through....  
  
She would just take a quick peek; make sure he was okay; not on the way to any nasty nightmares or anything like that.  
  
It was *totally* justified.   
  
Before she could have second thoughts, she took a deep breath, then relaxed.   
  
Empathics couldn't unconsciously feel sleeping minds emotions. She hadn't realised it at first, but she'd quickly managed to put together the pieces after her experiences in the hospital, then through hours of research, punctuated by cries of, "You have *got* to be kidding!" "No *way*!" "Why did I have to get stuck with this?" "Freaking death demon...." and "Angel is *so* gonna kill me."  
  
Upon waking from her vision trip, the first thing she'd seen had been Angel, followed closely by Wesley as she clutched Angel's hand and thanked whatever God was out there that the numbing pain had finally stopped.   
  
She'd felt what seemed to be waves of relief rolling around the room. At the time, she'd thought it was just her.   
  
When she'd woken up again though, Angel had been asleep, still clutching her hand, but Wesley had been awake. It was then that she felt relief again, but not as much. She'd thought it was a bit strange, since she could tell now that all she was really feeling was bone deep exhaustion, and then somehow, she managed to unconsciously track the source back to Wesley.   
  
However, when she looked over at Angel, it was as though she was hitting a brick wall. Nothing came out.   
  
At least, nothing came out without her trying.  
  
She hadn't figured that out on her own though. Enter research stage right. From what she could find and from the descriptions of what it was, she gathered that this was a power that could go either way. Seriously help, or seriously hinder. And in her research, she'd also figured out how to get into a sleeping mind, and how to control her reactions to waking minds.   
  
Cordelia cleared her mind of all thoughts, and focused on Wesley's face. She squinted her eyes and concentrated steadily for a few moments on the middle of his forehead, then she felt the sudden falling feeling as she was sucked through the cracks in the previously impenetrable brick wall that was Wesley's emotions.   
  
She didn't let herself stay for long. The different shades she saw in there were comforting to her. She knew Wesley was going to be okay. The shade that represented pain was a little too dark for her liking, but she knew it would go away soon. As for the rest, it all looked normal. She was about to release her concentration and let go, when she noticed the shade that represented happiness.   
  
It was a little dull.  
  
Immediately, Cordelia began to worry, indicating just how much she'd changed since her days back in Sunnydale. Back then, she wouldn't have cared two cents about anyone else's happiness except her own, but now....  
  
Why shouldn't Wesley be happy?  
  
Before she could rethink her actions or change her mind, Cordelia reached forward with a hand and lightly touched the shade. Light flared and pulsed under her hand, then she quickly pulled away.  
  
The dullness was gone.  
  
Trying to justify her actions, Cordelia quickly let the connection go, relaxing her concentration and suddenly finding herself back to normal again as she squeezed her eyes shut tight and straightened up slowly from the bed.   
This was only temporary, artificial happiness. It wasn't going to effect Wesley in the long run. There wouldn't be any unpleasant side-effects. She'd been quick and hadn't really changed the feeling all that much. She was doing a good thing....   
  
But to be sure, she'd just have to make sure that she and Angel kept Wesley's spirits up for the next couple of days, and then it could be real, and hopefully permanent happiness.  
  
Realising suddenly that she'd been gone from the kitchen for a lot longer than she expected, Cordelia quickly snatched up the first-aid kit from the coffee table, and after sending one last look to Wesley's sleeping face, she turned on her heel and hurried back to Angel.  
  
  
End part 1  



	3. Part 2

TITLE: I've Got You Under My Skin  
AUTHOR: Jana Kay  
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au  
DISCLAIMER: All Angel and BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and 20th Century Fox, and Roswell characters also belong to others. I don't know who.   
RATING: R   
PAIRING: Angel/Cordelia  
SPOILERS: Up through to the end of S1 for A:tS, and the end of S4 for BtVS as well. Spoilers up through to 'Crazy' for S1 of Roswell also.  
SUMMARY: An Angel/Roswell crossover, where Agent Topolsky's character on Roswell becomes a vessel for Darla's demon, brought back from Hell in the Angel season finale.   
NOTES: These: //.....// indicate thoughts.  
  
*****  
  
PART II  
  
  
When Cordelia hurried back into the kitchen, she was surprised to find Angel resting his cheek on the small wooden table, eyes closed and breathing deeply though he didn't need to. He acted as though he didn't notice her, so she quietly walked forwards, stopping beside him as she reached out a hand to touch his naked shoulder.  
  
He shot up with a start, eyes open wide in surprise, and Cordelia had to fight with everything inside of her to stop the stab of pain Angel experienced that she also felt from showing on her face.   
  
As he took in the sight of Cordelia's stunned face at what he thought were his sudden actions, Angel settled back on the chair with a sheepish smile, his injured arm now resting on the table as he stretched his legs out to loosen them a little.   
  
"Sorry. I was just...." He trailed off and looked away as Cordelia quickly brought herself back under control, the pain having faded enough for her to close her mouth and set the kit down. Trying to act casual but still concerned, she tilted her head to the side as she squeezed his shoulder lightly.   
  
"You were what? Doing the vamp version of meditation, complete with your cheek pressed down flat on my table while you drooled?"  
  
Angel turned his head back to look at her as he studied her with a slight frown, his forehead creasing a little. "I didn't drool."  
  
Sighing in exasperation, Cordelia pulled up a chair and sat in it facing him, keeping her legs out of the way of his so they wouldn't get tangled when they tried to get up. "I know you didn't Angel. I was just wondering what you were doing."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Leaning forward so she could see him better, Cordelia waited a few moments for him to continue. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to say anything else, she restrained herself from rolling her eyes before saying, "Okay. So....what *were* you doing?"   
  
Tapping his fingers on the table now, Angel shook his head slightly, almost uncomfortably. "I was just resting my eyes a little. That's all. And I didn't notice you come in so I was surprised when you--"  
  
Cordelia interrupted him bluntly. "I'd appreciate it if you look me in the eyes when you lie to me. I'm your best friend after all. I feel as though I'm worth at least that much of a better job of it."   
  
A guilty look flashed over Angel's face as he caught her hazel eyes for a moment before looking away again. "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
Softening her voice as she took in his expression, Cordelia experienced a little of her own guilt at pushing him so much, so she reached forward and patted her hand on his knee. "Don't apologise Angel. Just know that whatever it is, you can tell me."  
  
Swallowing as he kept his head turned away from her, all Angel could do was nod his head in agreement.   
  
Taking in the sight of his slumped appearance and dejected air, Cordelia knew there was more at work here than his guilt over what happened to Wesley and his having lied to her. Watching him closely, she had a flash of insight as she remembered the pain she'd felt twice now and Angel's steady unnecessary breaths as he rested his cheek on the table.   
  
Sighing softly, she leaned forward and touched his injured arm with gentle fingertips. "It's this isn't it. You were trying to concentrate and make the pain go away."   
  
It came out as a statement, not a question, and Angel looked up at her quickly, surprise showing on his handsome features at Cordelia having figured it out. "Yeah. How did you--"  
  
Shaking her head quickly, she picked up the kit and flipped it open with a practiced move as she cut him off. "It doesn't matter how I knew Angel. What matters is that we fix it now."   
  
Eyeing her carefully as she pulled out antiseptic and gauze, all Angel could do was nod and say, "Okay," as Cordelia steamrolled him into sitting still and giving her his arm so she could patch it up, her sudden rush of -- previously almost unheard of -- insight arousing his curious and slightly suspicious instincts.  
  
But faced with a determined Cordelia Chase, all he could do was watch and wait.   
  
For now.  
  
*****  
  
Lilah Morgan raised the frosted wine glass to her red lips and took a delicate sip, all the while elegantly manicured fingernails of her other hand tapping softly and steadily on the sleekly varnished surface of her large desk. Setting the wine glass down on a portion of her desk that wasn't currently covered in open folders, she proceeded to settle back in her leather desk chair with one particularly large folder open on her lap.   
  
The idleness of her fingers as she flicked through the sheets of information inside could have easily been misinterpreted by another watching as carelessness, but unless they were very close, they'd never actually realise that her smoky brown eyes were carefully skimming and cataloguing every single detail she read.  
  
A manipulative tactic she'd used more than once on unsuspecting rivals to beat them before they even knew what hit them.   
  
She sighed in frustration as she reread some of the information in the folder, then reached for her wine glass again, determined to enjoy her evening even though she was at work, and try her hardest not to let this annoying case upset her.   
  
She had just picked up the slender stem of the glass when there was a cursory knock at the door, followed immediately by Lindsey MacDonald opening the door and stepping inside.   
  
As had become her custom in the last week since the Raising, her gaze flicked down for a moment to the prominent stump of his right wrist before she quickly raised her cat-like eyes again, trying to appear as though she hadn't been looking. Looking at the place where Lindsey had previously had a perfectly fine right hand had become a slightly sick fascination. No matter what she was doing, her eyes always seemed to be drawn back to it, as though the stump was glaring at her in anger.   
  
Why? She had no idea.  
  
This time, Lindsey noticed. "Stop looking at it."  
  
Her face became a picture of innocence as she set the wine glass down again and raised her hands slightly. "Who me? I wasn't looking at anything."  
  
Lindsey scowled as he walked further into her spacious office, flopping down onto an expensive leather armchair opposite her before growling, "Save your lying for the court. I can see through you as if you were glass."  
  
Smirking slightly as she leaned back in her chair, she steepled her fingers together as she studied him for a moment, her eyes once again travelling down to the stump of their own volition. "Well you have to admit, it's very eye catching." Her smirk grew as she watched Lindsey's scowl deepen.  
  
Twisting in his chair slightly, he leveled an angry stare at her with intense blue eyes. "I hope you realise the extent of your parasitism Lilah. Wouldn't want you to suddenly grow a couple more eyes and sprout wings unannounced."   
  
Her smirk stayed firmly in place through sheer force of will, but her smoky brown eyes hardened to cold points of ice as she silently gritted her teeth and refrained from answering. Simply continuing to smile would piss her coworker off more than any other answer she could possibly give him.  
  
Scowling again, eyes narrowed into tiny slits of dislike, Lindsey faced away from her slightly and ran his only hand through his floppy brown hair, then unconsciously began to cradle his stump the way he had when Angel had first cut it off. It was something he'd begun to do ever since the doctor said two days ago that the sling could come off.  
  
Bringing her temper under control again, Lilah sighed with impatience. "Did you have a specific reason in coming here Lindsey? One you needed to talk to me about?"  
  
The sudden change in Lindsey's demeanour was almost, *almost* unnoticeable, but after having worked side by side with him for so many years she was just able to pick it up. His eyes narrowed every so slightly as his head tilted in an innocent gesture. Well, in what would be perceived as an innocent gesture by the entire general public except her. To her the tilt of his handsome face wasn't innocent at all. It was entirely all too calculating, not to mention vastly intriguing.   
  
Leaning forward in curiosity, Lilah propped her elbows on the desk and waited. "Well?"  
  
Clearing his throat slightly and turning his body back to face her, Lindsey raised an eyebrow as he asked, "Have the plans for dealing with the Angel matter been finalised yet?"   
  
Narrowing her own eyes as she picked up the ever so slight trace of hate in Lindsey's smooth voice, she shook her head. "Holland is still meeting with the senior partners over it. He said that they should come to a final decision by midnight tomorrow at the latest. Then it's up to us to move the plan forward."  
  
Tugging on his tie to loosen it, Lindsey relaxed back into the comfortable armchair as he eyed Lilah carefully. "Okay. Well have there been any problems....with the plan?"  
  
Smiling widely as she pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up, Lilah purred, "Only what we expected, but she seems to be coming along nicely. Give her a few more weeks and she should be in top condition. Our favourite neighbourhood vampire will never know the difference."  
  
Walking around the edge of her desk, Lilah moved towards the far side of the room where a sleek 63cm television was set up on a black coffee table. Picking up the remote control that lay beside it, she clicked it on and then stood to the side so Lindsey had a clear view of the crisp picture on screen. Her smile grew wider as she eagerly watched the events taking place in another part of the huge Wolfram & Hart building. "See what I mean?"  
  
Lindsey's smile became nasty as he watched the small blonde onscreen struggle against her bonds, growling angrily at empty air as her eyes flew around the vault in confusion, her pupils still largely dilated as her mind kept replaying scenes of Hell over and over again in front of her eyes.  
  
His fingers stroked his chin as he crossed one leg over the other. "Tell me again how she works Lilah. I still can't quite believe it. I mean if you'd seen her when we first got her....an FBI agent! Now look at her."  
  
Rolling her eyes as she moved back to her desk, Lilah said, "How many times do I have to tell you this Lindsey? Do you keep forgetting? Or are you just really enjoying hearing what's going to happen to Angel?"  
  
Lindsey smirked as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen. The blonde had settled down slightly but she was still growling softly. "Probably a bit of both."  
  
Sighing as she turned back to the TV, Lilah watched the blonde closely. "She's not really his sire as you well know, but she is a direct descendant of hers. That's why she bears such a frighteningly strong resemblance to Darla." Opening up the large folder she'd been looking in when Lindsey first came in, she picked up a photograph taken in the early 1990's and passed it to him.   
  
Lindsey took it and stared at it closely then looked back towards the screen, a low whistle escaping his lips as he compared the two females. "Uncanny."  
  
"Exactly. That photo of Darla was taken when she was last in LA. Holland ran into her by accident when he was in a meeting with a client, and you won't believe who the client was. The now completely deceased Russell Winters. How's that for irony?"  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
Rolling her eyes at the back of Lindsey's head, Lilah replied, "Because that was the first case Angel ever meddled in, and now it's going to come back to haunt him. I mean if it hadn't have been for Russell Winters, we would have never found out about Darla and have been able to use her against him. Anyway, Holland had someone take that picture of her, in case we ever felt the need to use her services for the firm and had to find her."  
  
Turning to Lilah quickly before looking back at the screen again, Lindsey asked, "How did those two know each other again?"  
  
Taking another sip of her wine, Lilah replied, "Winters met Darla when she and her also now completely deceased sire first came to American shores. They remained friends throughout the years while they both went about their own business', and Darla often came back to visit him and help him out with any work problems he might have. The last time she came, when that photo was taken, was for those exact reasons. A few demons who were looking to move in on Winter's territory needed to be dealt with immediately, and she came up from wherever she was at the time to help him kill them."  
  
Lilah smiled and her eyes twinkled with unholy glee. "Holland saw them do it too. He told me just the other day as we were down in the vault visiting our guest that she was one of the most powerful vampires he'd ever seen, with a wonderful style when it came to dealing with opponents in a....messy way."  
  
Lindsey's eyebrows raised in surprise. "And we think she," he said pointing to the screen, "is going to be able to emulate what the real Darla was and could do?"  
  
"No Lindsey, she won't have to do that. She is after all, still only human. However though, she is possessed by Darla's demon, and this lends certain traits to her that she otherwise never would have had."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Well, she has better reflexes and increased strength now, and of course, she'll have all the mannerisms and memories of Darla herself, because the demon from Hell will be what's controlling her body, not the soul."   
  
Lindsey scratched his chin lightly as he tilted his head to the side and stared harder at the screen. The blonde was hanging limply in her chains now, moaning as if in pain while her eyes kept rolling up into the back of her head in agitation. "How exactly can you be sure of that? I mean, they're both in there right? Soul and demon. How do we know she won't suddenly be in control of herself again and ruin everything?"   
  
Lilah sighed at his naivete. "You idiot Lindsey. There's no way she can be in control again, not until the demon's expelled. And then we'll have no use for her, so it'll be goodbye Agent Kathleen Topolsky."  
  
Lindsey turned back to face her, concern etched onto his handsome features. "But how can you be sure? I mean, we've never done anything like this before, and none of the records in the vault or the library have ever written about something like this being successfully completed. We have nothing to guide us here except for vague clues from a scroll full of prophecies that are over 3000 years old, and written in over a dozen different languages which aren't even all human." His eyes flicked back to the screen again as if unwilling to turn away from the miraculous sight. "How can you be so damned certain she won't gain control?"  
  
Lilah was flustered for a moment when Lindsey finished his tirade. As much as she hated to admit it, a lot of his points made sense. In fact, too many did. But did he really think Wolfram & Hart were so stupid as to do something of this size and importance without taking the necessary precautions? Of course not. Wolfram & Hart were not a stupid firm. They may have hired some stupid people, but they themselves were not stupid. Far from it. Finding her icy calm again, Lilah leaned back in her chair as she cast a withering look at her coworker.   
  
"We've done countless amounts of research on demon possessions and the like MacDonald. It's all clearly written there. A vampire is always stronger than a mortal, therefore a vampire's demon will always be stronger than a mortal's soul. Blondie's soul will be too weak to protect itself, let alone fight back against Darla's demon." She settled back into her chair in triumph, ignoring the niggling doubt that there really hadn't been that much written in way of confirmation. Ignoring that the majority of what they were doing was just guesswork, strategic planning and a heck of a lot of confidence.  
  
Why?  
  
Because Wolfram & Hart were not stupid. This wild plan would never have been agreed to unless they all thought it would work.  
  
She had to believe in that.   
  
They all did.   
  
  
End part 2 


	4. Part 3

TITLE: I've Got You Under My Skin  
AUTHOR: Jana Kay  
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au  
DISCLAIMER: All Angel and BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon and fellow associates, and Roswell characters belong to others. I don't know who.   
RATING: R. However this chapter is PG13  
PAIRING: Angel/Cordelia  
SPOILERS: Up through to the end of S1 for A:tS, and the end of S4 for BtVS as well. Spoilers up through to 'Crazy' for S1 of Roswell also.  
SUMMARY: An Angel/Roswell crossover, where Agent Topolsky's character on Roswell becomes a vessel for Darla's demon, brought back from Hell in the Angel season finale.   
NOTES: These: //.....// indicate thoughts.  
  
*****  
  
PART III  
  
  
After making sure she'd patched up Angel's arm properly, Cordelia packed the first-aid items back into the kit. Standing carefully and maneuvering around the vampire's long legs, she patted his shoulder briefly before moving back to the bathroom to store the kit.   
  
Coming out again, she found Angel standing next to the fold out bed, looking down at Wesley. Sighing, she looked at his profile for a moment before slowly walking closer. Angel was her best friend. She didn't like seeing him guilty at all, though she understood why a little guilt was always necessary. However that didn't mean that he had to have the problems of the whole world on his broad shoulders.  
  
So enter Cordelia to save the brooding hero.  
  
Stopping beside him, she folded her arms as she joined him in looking down at Wesley. At seeing the ever so slight smile on the British man's face, a twinge of guilt ran through her at remembering what she'd done to him, but she consoled herself with the fact that she knew it wouldn't harm him. But just to be sure, she'd make sure they made him truly happy when he woke up, then what she'd done wouldn't matter.  
  
Angel's husky voice broke her out of the thoughts she'd fallen into unaware.  
  
"I shouldn't have taken him with me."  
  
Sighing, she turned to watch the dark haired vampire's face as she replied, "I don't want to have to keep repeating myself here, Angel. You didn't take him with you. He tagged along. He's Wesley! He always does stuff like this. This isn't your fault."  
  
It was Angel's turn to sigh. "But if I'd just--"  
  
Cordelia interrupted him swiftly. "Enough. This isn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done that you didn't already do. Wesley's fine and dreaming of happy things, and now it's time for you to sleep too."  
  
Angel rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, his shoulders hunching slightly. "Fine. Goodnight. I'll sleep out here."  
  
She was in the midst of voicing her approval when she realised what he'd said. "Out here?" At hearing the sudden loud volume of her voice, she glanced quickly towards Wesley, then dragged Angel back into the kitchen by his elbow. "You are *so* not sleeping out there. You're hurt. You'll sleep with me in my bed."  
  
A raised eyebrow greeted her instructions, and she found to her mortification that she started blushing. Frowning, she slapped his arm softly. "Not like that. But we're both adults. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor, and I personally don't want to sleep on the floor myself. My bed is pretty big, and there's plenty of room for both of us and some spare. We can very easily both sleep in it." Her eyes narrowed as she watched him intently. "You think you can handle that?"  
  
A smile twitched onto his lips, and after watching her for a long moment, he slowly nodded his head. Better to just go along, because there was no way he'd be able to talk her out of this. She was probably the only woman he'd ever met who could easily wrap him around her little finger with just a look. Buffy had come close, but ultimately, the Vampire and Slayer thing was just too deeply ingrained in both of their personas for them to always get along.   
  
And thus he'd left town, leaving him here, about to share a bed with Cordelia Chase. Who'd have thought? Sure she was his best friend and this was strictly platonic, but still. "Since it's obvious you won't have it any other way, I guess I can."  
  
She ran her hands through her hair as she breathed out slowly. "Good."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Are we going to keep saying good now?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay."  
  
And she turned and went back to the bathroom, intent on getting ready for bed.   
  
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she ran a quick comb through her long dark hair, finishing by pulling it back and securing it into a low ponytail. It was part of her ritual every night, because if there was one thing Cordelia just couldn't stand, it was waking up with a rat's nest full of tangles.   
  
Plus, there was Angel to think about tonight. Sure she was his best friend, but she was also a woman. Whether he was sharing her bed platonically or not, she still didn't want to give him a fright in the morning.   
  
Yes, she was vain, but so was everybody else. Why should she feel bad about her own vanity when she knew Angel was almost as bad as her? And after all, even Wesley had a few of his own beauty secrets, which she'd just barely managed to extricate from him after a full night of drinking at a bar she'd found uptown.  
  
Checking herself one last time to make sure she didn't smell, she walked down the hall and into her bedroom. Looking up from her feet, she stopped momentarily at the sight of Angel already laying down, tucked beneath the covers, seemingly asleep.   
  
Her breath caught for a moment as the soft lamplight highlighted his strong facial features. For the first time since she'd met him, he actually looked peaceful. And without worry and guilt gracing the planes of his face, he also looked remarkably young. Only in his mid-twenties.   
  
Truthfully, during the day he usually looked as though he was mid-twenties going on 40. Or maybe that was just the way he acted.  
  
Either way, that didn't change the fact that at this very moment, Angel looked younger to her than he ever had before. Less a vampire, and more a human. Less a demon and more a man.   
  
Laying on the pillow had mussed his hair slightly, and a solitary lock of hair was gradually working its way down over his eye. Walking softly towards him, trying to be extra quiet because vampire senses were pretty iffy, she bent down and carefully moved it away, her fingers trailing down softly over his sharp cheekbone.  
  
At that moment, Angel opened his eyes, bottomless brown meeting chocolate brown.  
  
Startled, Cordelia froze, a cry half choked in her throat that she was refusing to let go. Smiling at him suddenly, as though she hadn't done a thing wrong, she straightened up quickly and absently patted him on a shoulder, trying not to notice how firm and muscled it felt as the pads of her fingers pressed down on it. She may have patched Angel up a million times before just like she did tonight, but she'd never actually touched his bare skin for no reason before.   
  
It felt ... funny.  
  
"Well, goodnight Angel. I thought you were asleep before but....obviously you weren't." Her arms swung back and forth as she made her way over to the other side of the bed. "Isn't that funny? Haha!" Her uncomfortableness was clearly apparent.   
  
Uncomfortable himself, Angel turned over slightly in the bed, keeping his eyes on her as she carefully sat down and pulled the covers over herself, not willing to get too close to him.  
  
"Cordelia, I can still sleep on the floor you know. This," he looked around the room and raised himself up on an elbow. "This isn't really necessary. This is your bedroom and your bed, and I'm perfectly okay sleeping out there with Wes."  
  
Shaking her head, Cordelia swallowed and resolutely lay down, one hand landing firmly on top of Angel's arm and pushing him down as well.  
  
"No Angel, it's okay. You just gave me a shock. You looked like you were asleep. I just ... wasn't expecting you to suddenly open your eyes like that." She took a deep breath, then moved into a more comfortable position. "We're okay here." She took another deep breath, trying not to breathe in the heady scent of male that Angel suddenly seemed to exude.  
  
Funny, she'd never noticed that before either.  
  
"We're okay here," she repeated. "Go to sleep Angel, you need rest."  
  
Laying his head back on the pillow, Angel folded his hands over his stomach as he watched his friend settle down out of the corner of his eye. This hadn't been a good idea. They were both too uncomfortable. He made up his mind to get up and sleep on the floor outside, but later. He'd let her fall asleep first; no sense in getting into a fight.  
  
Turning his head slightly as Cordelia snuggled into her pillow, he said a soft, "Goodnight."  
  
A small smile twitched onto Cordelia's lips before she could stop it. He just sounded like such a little boy sometimes. "Goodnight, Angel. Sleep tight," she whispered, and it wasn't long after that that she drifted into sleep.  
  
Angel was also just about to drift into sleep when he remembered the curtains. The thought of frying in the sun in his sleep jolted him awake pretty quickly, but it was only after clarity had returned to his mind that he remembered he'd already shut Cordelia's curtains, and either way, they faced north, therefore that meant no direct sunlight coming in and hitting him.  
  
Settling back down again, he pulled the covers over himself a little more and winced slightly as the movement jolted his injury. Looking down at his arm, he took in the sight of the thick bandage wrapped securely around the wound.   
  
Cordelia had become quite the nurse. Not that he really needed bandages, but as far as his friend was concerned, anybody who had a wound should have it patched up, whether they be immortal or human or half-demon. It seemed to make her feel better, as though she'd done something worthwhile in helping.  
  
Angel didn't have it in him to stop her from feeling that way by avoiding being bandaged up. Everybody had something to atone for, he couldn't begrudge Cordelia hers.   
  
It was only after his mind had gone fuzzy again with sleep that he remembered her reaction when she'd first found out about his injury. The look of shock and the insight she'd displayed that he'd never really seen in her before, at least not to that accurate a level. But before he could really think about what that meant, or remember that he'd been planning on getting up before he fell asleep, Morpheus had already wrapped him up in his arms.   
  
*****  
  
Isabel Evans couldn't sleep.   
  
The heatwave had returned, and not only was the temperature so oppressive in her room that it made it difficult to breathe let alone lay down on her bed, she also couldn't get thoughts of Miss Topolsky out of her head.   
  
It had been a week since she'd disappeared, and four days since the news stations had shown the hospital she'd been staying in burn to the ground, supposedly killing her.   
  
Supposedly, because something inside Isabel refused to believe that the woman was actually dead. It was confusing to her to be thinking like this, to care, because it wasn't as though she held any great love for the FBI agent; she'd been sent to spy on them after all. But something about her reappearance in Roswell and then the way she had spoken to Liz and Michael and her subsequent disappearance and death ... it just didn't make any sense.   
  
There was something they didn't know.   
  
Something important.  
  
And it was the thought of what this important thing might be that was keeping her awake, not to mention thoughts of where Miss Topolsky might be now if she was indeed still alive.  
  
Thanks to her disappearance, they never did find out what the communicators did when they were together, if they even were communicators -- which Michael kept insisting they were -- because nobody had any idea what they actually were. The one they had just looked like a gray-blue orb with a mesmerising pattern on it that they all seemed to remember but couldn't for the life of them identify.  
  
Rolling over in her bed again and kicking the covers with her feet, she gave up on sleeping with a sigh, getting up quietly instead. Opening her bedroom door slowly to stop the hinges from squeaking, she slipped out into the hall, silently making her way towards her brother's room.   
  
They needed to talk.  
  
*****  
  
Max Evans couldn't sleep either.  
  
Firstly because of the heat which had made him throw all his bedcovers off, and secondly, because Michael Guerin had decided to sleep over again.  
  
Max knew that Michael didn't really have anywhere else to go, so he didn't begrudge him the use of his floor. Plus, he wanted Michael to stay over with his family because he was his best friend and pseudo-brother, but he just really wished sometimes that Michael would stop asking if he was awake when he climbed through the window, when it was pretty obvious by his own deep breathing that he wasn't.  
  
The only thing that served to do was wake him up and stop him from falling asleep again, because of course when he was awake, Michael inevitably had something to discuss, some half-cocked plan that he was going to do anyway no matter what Max and Isabel thought about it, and no matter how many times they tried to convince him not to go through with it.   
  
Sighing, he turned over onto his side to better look at Michael, who was pacing the room quietly like a caged tiger.   
  
"All I'm saying Maxwell is that it's worth a shot. I mean, what if they left the other communicator somewhere where we'd never find it? This could be our only chance to see if we can somehow get it back. Remember what Miss Topolsky said? They have to be together, and so if we can't get them together we can't see if we can call and make contact, and if we can't do that, then we won't be able to--"  
  
"Michael! Stop. Just stop, okay?"  
  
Sighing again, Max flopped back down onto his bed, sweat from the heat collecting on his brow and skin, making him feel sticky and irritable. Not for the first time, he wished they didn't always want to run their ideas by him first, as if he somehow knew better than anybody just what it was they were supposed to be doing in situations like these.  
  
Michael turned on Max, his pale face a frustrated mask and his body tense. "No Max! Don't you get it? We have to do this. There's no other possible solution for seeing if we can get the second communicator. We have to go and do it tomorrow night. It's our only chance." He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he turned back to the window, staring up at the sky as though the stars could somehow tell him everything he wanted ... no ... *needed* to know.   
  
He paused for a few moments, as though lost in thought, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, layered with a longing he never let out, instead keeping it buried deep inside of him for fear it would devour him whole if he didn't watch it carefully. "This could be our ticket home, Max. We could finally go home. I could finally go ..."  
  
Slumping suddenly, he turned and sat in Max's desk chair, his head hanging down as he struggled to keep himself still, stop himself from running out onto the streets and doing something stupid.  
  
Max was speechless for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Grand plans and speeches were something Michael was a maestro at, but it was rare for him to voice feelings and emotions that he kept hidden inside himself. It was almost scary to Max to see Michael acting so out of character.  
  
Blinking slowly, he sat up on his bed. Turning Michael's idea over and over in his mind, he came to the conclusion that, while it was foolhardy and stupid and quite possibly incredibly dangerous, there was a wild hope that it might just work if luck was on their side.  
  
Swinging his legs off the side of the bed and moving towards the open window, letting the faint breeze wash over him and cool his sticky skin, Max made a decision that he realised might kill them all if they were caught. But dammit, Michael needed this. *If* they got away with this and *if* they got the information they needed, Max knew that Michael would go back to being himself again.   
  
As his best friend, Max knew Michael better than most people, though not completely. He didn't think he or anybody else would ever know Michael completely, because he was far too stand-offish and suspicious. But as his best friend, Max knew him well enough to know deep inside himself that even if they got caught while doing this, having at least tried would make Michael feel better, as if he'd done something worthwhile. On the other hand, if they got caught anyway without doing anything -- which was becoming a more possible scenario every day what with the Sheriff and Agent Pierce sniffing around -- then Max could say goodbye to Michael ever being himself again.   
  
And truthfully, Max was quickly getting tired of all the secrecy and hiding they'd had to partake in ever since the shooting last year in the Crashdown Cafe as well. He craved the relative normalcy of their lives before it had all been turned upside down -- by him no less. He couldn't begrudge Michael this wild plan, because whatever Michael wanted, he wanted too. And he was almost certain Isabel would want the lives they had before back too; she was constantly worried lately. If they didn't do this, their last chance at finding out what the orb was, and possibly getting the second orb back would be lost to them forever.   
  
They had to take this chance. They just had to.  
  
What had started last year at the Crashdown as a good deed better left untold, had quickly snowballed into a constant need to look back over their shoulders, lie to their parents and the authorities, and concoct one foolhardy plan after another to keep their names as clear as they could get them and throw off Sheriff Valenti's suspicions.   
  
In the blackest of nights, Max sometimes found himself lying in bed and wondering if the three of them, Michael, Isabel and himself, would have been better off if he'd never saved Liz that day. If he'd just let that bullet run its course and allowed her to die when she should have. On those particular nights, he would stuff his face into a pillow and feel like crying and hate himself afterwards, because whenever he made himself think of that crossroads in his life and whether or not he would have changed his decision, his answer was always Yes.   
  
For all that he loved her and had loved her and would likely always love her, Max sometimes thought that life would be so much easier if he hadn't patched up that little hole two inches beneath her ribs. That life would be so much easier if he'd let her die and never called attention to himself from the authorities, because of those damned nosy tourists who were so completely *intent* on finding where the stupid bullet had gone.  
  
It was a futile train of thought though. Max was incredibly thankful Liz was still alive, and he wasn't naive enough to think that if he hadn't saved Liz when he had, that they would never have been found out. It was always a ticking time bomb where the three of them were concerned, and the only thing he'd managed to do with his actions was speed up the clock a little ways.  
  
A movement behind him made him turn his head. Michael was rubbing his face with his hands, his expression tired and a little ragged from lack of sleep. "So?" he grumbled, face as neutral as he could manage it. "What do you say, Max. Do we do it?"  
  
Before he could change his mind, Max sealed their fates.   
  
"Yes."  
  
  
End part 2  



End file.
